


I am thy fool in the morning

by ThyErasmusBeDelivered (D20Owlbear)



Series: Warlock TV, Novelizations and Fics [2]
Category: Slow Show - mia_ugly, Warlock (Slow Show), Warlock (TV) - Fandom, Warlock - Slow Show - Fandom
Genre: Betrayal of Trust, Kinda, M/M, Masturbation, Period Accurate, Rated E for Sad Wanking and Pseudo-Catholic Guilt™, Sad Wank, absolutely - Freeform, all those demon dreams u know, also kinda - Freeform, and nobody is happy about it, as much as period accurate means to a nondenominational fantasy world, basically theres no cock we're going all the way back to rod, feeling bad about it, i apologize for the sexual slang, imagined terribleness, season 3 was ROUGH FOR MY SON, sin and sex, william is having a Time alright?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23457211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/ThyErasmusBeDelivered
Summary: William in s3 and all his sad wanks in the woods.
Series: Warlock TV, Novelizations and Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1712140
Comments: 18
Kudos: 23
Collections: Slow Show Metaverse, Warlock fic





	I am thy fool in the morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raswillobsession (argentconflagration)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentconflagration/gifts).



> Title from _The Paradox_ by Paul Laurence Dunbar  
> Thank you to [Phoenix_of_Athena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_of_Athena) who beta'd for me!
> 
> Requested by RasWillObsession for FTH! The prompt was, in essence:  
> \- All the pining  
> \- William pov  
> \- Yearning/guilty wank
> 
> I hope you approve!

William had been told all his life that this lack of need for sleep was a sign of something holy. Or perhaps not all of it; perhaps when he was a small child his mother was vexed by it. Though he has little recollection of her, he thinks she had the right of it in this regard. There's nothing holy about how not-enough-sleep makes him feel or what it does to his temper. 

When he sleeps these days it is nearly as exhausting as staying awake; his dreams are haunted by the visage of wine-dark hair and sly smiles that turn heated. It couldn’t be anything less than his greatest shame. William _loves_ Erasmus, in the way one loves brothers in arms, in the same ways he loves Julia and Joshua and his family. Except for this, except now he notices things and feels things that are different for Erasmus. 

William does not like this sort of difference. It wells up in his gut like groundwater wells up in muddy footprints and overtakes his dreams, leaving him to wake with physical proof of his shame. He dreams about Erasmus taking him into the woods, engaging in all sorts of carnal acts that surely are far more pleasurable in his dreams than they could ever be in reality. But there is something in the back of his mind that says, with Erasmus, it would be just like a waking dream. With Erasmus above him, pleasuring him, it would be beyond measure.

No! William rolls over on his bedding and sighs as he stares into the dull embers that keep them as warm as they dare. Julia is awake, keeping watch, and he waves at her to sleep; he won’t be getting anymore tonight. It’s a common occurrence by now. After three years or so, and both Erasmus and Julia are used to his odd peculiarities just like he’s used to theirs. Or at least, as used to each other as they can be. William keeps his own secrets close to his heart even now, because secrets like these could easily drive off the other two, and William would sooner chop off his own hands than willingly turn their love for him to hatred. Or worse, to disgust.

And he is certain that is what it would be. They would not care for his priesthood vows, or any other reason others might, but only for the fact that Erasmus is a dear and trusted friend, one he dreams of in ways that are amazingly inappropriate for bosom buddies, for brothers in arms. William is sure beyond any doubt that this is a gross violation of the trust and intimacy he has been given and continues to receive. 

But he also cannot help himself. There is no power in him stronger than the desires that beguile him and make him charge down this path of no return. For every relief he manages to take for himself, there is a weighty cost that only sometimes seems like it may be worth the reprieve from the constant ache and haze Erasmus inspires in him these days. Ever since that first dream of Erasmus’ kiss in foggy woods, where his traitorous mind painted false memories of the touch of his skin and the heat of his mouth, William had been damned.

He watches as Julia settles down on the other side of Joshua and Erasmus in the spot which William has vacated, and his heart softens at the serene picture these three people who have grown so dear to him make. The night lingers on, and from the way the moon hangs in the sky he knows that Julia’s watch would have been over soon anyway and his own began. He often takes the middle of the three watches, far more used than the others to being up in the middle of the night and awake at such times on a regular basis. Though three years in, William supposes, anyone might become used to it.

His thoughts wander as they might and he makes little effort to corral them as they remain on lighter things. There are no more noises around except for the natural susurrations of the forest. He thinks of how his family still in Neath would react to this miss-matched band he travels with now, and his turncoat mind begins building him a new waking dream.

He’s home and he can almost smell the familiar scent of Neath and the spices his sister likes to dry above the hearth. He can even see in his mind’s eye the chimney to the smoke-house, a gray cloud of smoke gently wafting downwind from burning apple-wood. In this fantasy, he has his entire family: his father and sister, and these new members as well, Erasmus and Julia and Joshua. They’re safe and happy to sit down for dinner, and the feelings of contentment the scene inspires leaves William unprepared for the twisting paths his mind will take him down. 

William indulges in the imagined safety, in the desire for his two lives past and present to be reconciled into something good and lovely. He imagines Erasmus with his arm casually hooked around the back of William’s chair. They watch Joshua play before the hearth while the rest of his family busies themselves doing what they like in the evenings. He fabricates an Erasmus who returns his desires and impure feelings, who is comfortable touching him in the ways he’s helpless to deny. William envisions his father and sister going up to their rooms and Julia taking Joshua to bed for the night, leaving him to bask by Erasmus’ side. 

He draws William close and presses a gentle kiss to his temple, and William is allowed to nuzzle against the hollow of Erasmus’ neck to breathe in the scent of his skin. He watches as Erasmus flips a small coin between his fingers; it’s a habit to keep him occupied, he knows now, to keep him from taking things that are unattended without meaning to because his mind has wandered too far away from his hands to keep an eye on them.

William has seen him do this plenty of times, and just as always, finds it _immensely_ distracting. His mind supplies all sorts of information it has hoarded without William’s permission, such as how it feels to be held against Erasmus’ chest and against his side, and how the calluses on his fingertips and palms catch the fabric of his sleeves when Erasmus feels safe enough to let his mind wander knowing William won’t let him be snuck up on. William knows all these things, and before he was beleaguered by these infernal dreams, he had paid them no attention. But now all these feelings and sensations are presented in new contexts and configurations which drive him ceaselessly to distraction. 

The Erasmus of his vision lays the coin on the table with a quiet click and cups William’s face tenderly to tilt his chin up. He kisses him with such soundless adoration that William is startled out of his fantasy. 

A quick look at his travelling family, at _Erasmus_ , and he is assured that they are still asleep. His face is warm and ruddy with disgrace, and between his thighs throbs with the results of his indiscretion. 

They are days away from any sort of Inquisition troops, they have not been followed or tracked for some time longer, and are as perfectly safe as they’ll ever be.So William rises and moves off into the forest, far enough that he can no longer see the camp, nor can they see him with any ease, but not so far that he would be unable to hear something in the stillness of the night. His breathing and the muffled crunch of dead leaves under his feet feel embarrassingly loud to his ears, which are surely as red as his face is now. But he does not stop, does not force himself to turn back and ignore these growing urges, does not keep himself on any path that may be called straight and narrow or righteous any longer.

He’s come to terms with it, somewhat, that he is an abhorrent, lewd thing for this. The sting of shame might never leave him, but it’s better to sneak away like a thief in the night to sate his odious and carnal appetite than for Julia or Erasmus to ever find out his feelings. 

William settles his back into the groove of a tree and leans his weight against it. His hands tremble so minutely that he can almost pretend he isn’t overcome, and his eyes slide shut as he dives back into his delusions of Erasmus’ gentle kiss on his lips and his warm hands on William’s cheek and shoulder, pulling him to rest on his chest. It feels like being submerged underwater. All his senses are quietened and everything is experienced through hazy recollections mirrored into new fantasies. 

He rucks his tunic up and unlaces his braies and lets his hand take hold of his rod, painfully firm already like iron. William nearly sobs at the relief-pleasure that wracks his body at the sudden pressure on such a sensitive place. His hips rock without his permission and he only barely bites back the moan that tries to leave his throat from the too-gentle friction suddenly available. 

He’s not sure if it’s a failing on his part, that it’s the thought of sweet gentility from Erasmus which riles him his way; that desperate mirages of affection and domesticity cause his blood to heat and his loins to fill like this. He’s the worst kind of traitor, William thinks, to betray a friend like this, in secret and repeatedly, but he slicks the palm of his hand with the beading cream from the tip and bites his lip until it hurts to keep himself quiet.

The slick of his hand over hard flesh seems to echo off the trees and every new gentle whistle of wind feels like a divine Messenger disapproving of his sins. But here he is, far past the point of no return as he imagines gentle, calloused fingertips carding through his hair and the soft murmur of a deep voice behind his ear promising him things like love and everlasting companionship. It feels like treachery even more than it feels like sin, and William doesn’t notice when the tears slip free of his eyes as he desperately keeps himself quiet.

It’s the whisper of a kiss to his temple, insubstantial and not truly there, tenderness from a shadow of the man he _wants_ so desperately, that does him in. He reaches the peak of his effort and cannot help the cry he makes as hot seed spills over his shuddering fist and his hips jerk as he jackknifes in half, as if to cover himself. He cannot move for a few moments until he hears the crunch of leaves from towards camp, and then he falls to the forest floor to wipe his hand of evidence of his misdeeds.

“Priest?” Erasmus’ voice calls sleepily, just as deep and relaxed as in his dreams, pulling red into William’s cheeks. “You alright?”

“Yes,” William croaks and lets his tunic cover his unlaced braies and what hangs from them before standing. “Just fell, sorry for waking you.”

“Come on then,” Erasmus reaches down and helps William stand, taking him by the hand to pull him back to camp. 

William trips again on the way, because he is too caught up in the fact that Erasmus’ hand is in his, sullied now he is sure, and Erasmus catches him. His face is pressed against Erasmus’ chest for nearly a full second, and his body is supported almost entirely by the man, and he knows that this moment will be remembered and reconstructed in dreams haunted by demons that tempt him so well.

“Mind if I keep you company?” Erasmus asks as they settle themselves by the warmth of the glowing embers, “You still have some of that tea, right?”

“Yes,” William breathes, closing his eyes to force his body to remain under control, desperate not to turn away whatever he can get from the bright-eyed man. He hopes that this will never change. No matter what he must do for it, William will clutch this platonic affection from Erasmus to his chest and keep his heart bolstered by it.

**Author's Note:**

> I intend to write the others I left off my 'William's Wank Bank' list in this into other chapters. If anyone has suggestions (especially if they're entirely softe/nonsexual prompts for William to become aroused by) put them into the comments!
> 
> What I have already in 'the bank' is:  
> \- Erasmus nicks a flower off a passing lady, realizes it too late to put it back and gives it to William with a carefree laugh (tucks into William’s hair?)  
> \- ~~Erasmus puts his arm over William's shoulders while explaining something/telling a story or joke and gesturing excitedly~~  
>  \- William helps Erasmus put salve over cuts on his back, his shirt is off  
> \- Erasmus signs something with an X and his signature is sealed with a kiss  
> \- Erasmus takes care of William when he has a fever - William remembers the feeling of cool hands on his forehead and laying in his lap  
> \- ~~Erasmus deftly handling a knife or coin, flicking it around in finger/hand dexterity/sleight of hand practice~~
> 
> Crossed out is what made it into this chapter.


End file.
